


Punishment Issues.

by JackandMarkaremySunandStars (ImagineBeingSafe)



Series: Daddy Loves You! [1]
Category: Markiplier-fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bottlefeeding, Caretaking, Daddy!Mark, Diapers, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Child Abuse, little!you, self punishment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 06:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14806248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImagineBeingSafe/pseuds/JackandMarkaremySunandStars
Summary: When Mark snaps at you as you are slipping into little space, it sparks a self punishing incident.Lucky you, no matter how bad your mind gets, Daddy will always catch you.





	Punishment Issues.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah. A little nervous about publishing this. But if you can't find it to read, write it, right?
> 
> As always, none of this is based in reality. It may be based on real people, but this is just a story. It's just stuff pulled from my head, that i think others might like.

+Mark's Pov+

 

_So…_

 

Today had **not** gone well. I'd had technical issues with my computer, then filmed a new rage game.

 

So when Mira interrupted, it wasn't her Daddy who answered her.

 

I was an **asshole.**

 

I had told her, again and again, you can come to me, Little or not, if she feels like she's slipping, or if she just needs me. That it wasn't trouble, that she wasn't a burden. That she wasn't **_bad_**.

 

And it took forever to get through to her. The thought that I might have undone it all in frustration…

 

**Fuck.**

 

Well, I got her to except it in the first place. I'm not giving up- I'll fix it. Patience and love worked before. It'll see us through again.

 

+Your Pov+

 

You should have known better. 

 

You'd heard his shouting, known about the issues that had plagued him that morning. 

 

 **_Really_ ** _should have known better._

 

In your head, everything Mark's done for you flits through in flashes:

 

Cuddling for hours.

 

 Baths with bubbles or fizzy bombs, bath crayon art work kept until you wanted something new.

 

Forgiving the bedwetting, and helping with the diapers

 

Coaxing you to eat when you had no appetite. Soothing your stomach when it turned on you.

 

Always cheering you on, whatever you worked on.

 

Forgiving your sometimes poor memory.

 

 Accepting that your anxiety and depression effected everything.

 

So much. Why wouldn't he get tired of you?

 

You heard your mother's laugh in your ears, her voice, like she was in the kitchen beside you.

 

**_"No one wants a sniveling Brat 24/7._ **

****

**_If your father could see you, he'd hate you too. I'm so glad he never saw this, it would have killed him."_ **

 

**_"You are not what I wanted. A good child would honor their mother._ **

 

**_You are the brick around my neck"_ **

 

You spun and faced the pantry.

 

" ** _Go on, you know you deserve it_** "

 

+

 

Mark had stopped at a bakery/café that you liked, to get a few treats. Comfort food. Dessert. Maybe a bath? Cuddles, for sure. And reassurance.  He knew he fucked up, had before, would again.  Time to fix it.

 

He headed through the front door, peeked into the living room. Good, you'd let Chica in from her play yard.

 

Maybe you were in the nursery? Little!you knew that was safe… 

 

Nope.

 

The bedroom? No.

 

Kitchen was it, then.

 

He turned about, and saw you tucked on your knees in a corner.

 

The first weeks of this new life you shared, he'd put down a rule, that if you thought you needed to be punished, to go to this corner, kneel, and wait.

 

Most of the time, you didn't deserve a thing, just your head being cruel.

 

He'd listen, yes. But you'd end up in his arms, usually being kissed and cuddled, or tickled until you smiled, then being redirected. To play, or color or a movie.

 

 

 

 _"But, I'm bad, I'm_ **_Bad!"_ **

 

_"Who decides the punishments, baby?"_

 

_"…You do, Daddy."_

 

 

He'd had to come up with a way to keep you safe, because you'd done stupid things when you thought yourself Bad.

 

He goes over and starts to pull you up. Your whimper stops him short. He looks down and sees the dry rice under you, and his stomach drops to his toes.

 

 

" _Worse thing my mother ever did, was making me kneel on dry rice. It digs in under your weight, the longer you're there the worse it gets. Some- Sometimes I'd have trouble walking the next day, I'd be so sore…"_

 

The tears are falling from you now, sharp and fast.

 

 _'Listen to him, do what he wants and stop crying,'_ races through your head _._

 

 _'Be_ **_good!'_ **

 

 

"Mira, come on! Sweetheart, look at me!"

 

 

When that gets him nowhere, he scoops you into his arms, heedless of the mess or your tears.

 

 

Mark carries you into the bathroom, and starts running water into the sink. He grabs the tweezers from the medicine cabinet.  He kneels in front of you.

 

"This might hurt, Baby."

 

But you don't notice. Mark's **_here_** , and his meticulous care silences the ugliness in your head.

 

He wets a washcloth, and pats at your knees, dries them with a soft towel, then wraps them in gauze for padding.

 

He lifts you back into his arms, and carries you back to the kitchen.

 

So, change of plans. He makes chicken bouillon and fills a small plate with Ritz crackers.

 

When it's done, and cool enough to drink, he turns back to you. You've come back enough to have your head down on the table, cushioned by your arms.

 

Mark sits by you, and gently strokes a hand through your hair.

 

"Baby. Need you to try to eat something."

 

He sees the uncertainty in your face.

 

"Please, for me?"

 

You pick up the mug.  A mouthful, and you feel your stomach protest. You **can't.**

 

Not for him, not for your own good.

 

Your head sinks back down.

 

"Mira…"

 

 

 **_"_ ** _Please. Don-_

 

You swallow hard.

 

 

 

_-"Don't make me-"_

 

It's croaky and weak, stammer-y. It's also the first thing you've said since he'd found you in the corner.

 

Mark wraps an arm around you.

 

"It's okay, it's okay."

 

He stands, and scoops you up again.  Bedroom then. You were already almost asleep.

 

Mark helps you out of your t-shirt, camisole and shorts, then helps you into a diaper, the kind you called Pull up because they were just like underwear.  No fluffy soft, thickly padded, taped diaper tonight.

 

Just protection.

 

One of his worn-soft t-shirts and that's it.

 

He pulls the blankets loose, you lie down and he tucks you back in.

 

He changes into PJ pants and a sleep shirt.

 

He goes round to the other side of the bed, does the same.

 

Pulls you close. You drift.

 

+

 

Mark wakes and isn't sure what woke him. He feels you shift from your side facing him, to your back

 

Then he hears it- Your stomach is **_loud_** when it's empty!

 

Even in your sleep, your hand moves to cover it, to comfort, or hide it, he's not sure.

 

He places his hand over your hand, and watches you sleep for a while, a soft smile on his face.

 

Soon enough, your stomach growls again, and it wakes you.

 

"…Daddy?"

 

"Hey, Starshine."

 

You happily roll into his arms. Little you forgives so easy.

 

Soft little pats go up and down your back, down to your padded butt.

 

It was Mark's discrete way of checking you.

 

Dry. Hmm. Lots to drink was in order.

 

There was another unhappy noise from your tummy.

 

"Hungry, Little one?"

 

You nodded.

 

"How about a grilled cheese? Annd, a surprise?"

 

Your eyes lit up.

 

"Let's go."

 

You tried to stand.

 

"-No, wait for Daddy!"

 

It hurt, a lot. You plopped back down on the edge of the bed.

 

"I didn't mean for you to try and walk yet, Sweet."

 

He scoops you up and you nuzzle in.

 

"Daddy's gotcha."

 

+

 

Mark gives you a clear plastic sippy filled with half cherry-cran juice, half water, after settling you at the table.

 

He gets out bread, cheese, and mayonnaise, and heats the skillet.

 

You watch him, swinging your feet, and drinking from your sippy.

 

He waits a moment, so it won't burn you, cuts it into little triangles, fills your sippy again, and settles both plate and cup in front of you

 

He makes his own while you eat. He doesn't worry about you not eating, you love the food in front of you.

 

You are usely easy going if it's things you like. Some days are harder to get you to eat than others. But today is good.

 

He finishes his food. Your plate is empty except for crumbs.

 

"Good girl, cleaning your plate.

 

"Now- I promised you a surprise?"

 

You nodded happily.

 

It wasn't a words day. Not that Mark was surprised after yesterday.

 

"How about a special bottle, and Daddy feeds it to you? Then, cuddles?"

 

You clapped, your eyes shining.

 

"Wonderful!"

 

Mark grabs a glass measuring cup out of one of the cabinets, fills it partway with milk and sets it into the microwave.

 

He grabs things from the pantry, too. Fills a bottle with the warmed milk, honey, vanilla, and a pinch of pumpkin pie spice.

 

Mark picks you up and carries you to the couch in the living room.

 

Soon you are nestled into the crook of his arm, the rest of you spread on his lap and the couch.

 

He presses the bottle to your lips, and you drink contentedly.

 

One of your hands plays with his shirt, fingers loosely griping the fabric.

 

Mark hums softly, happy to watch you.

 

When you're done, he tries to rearrange you so you can see the tv, and still be in his arms.

 

That does not work, you wrap both arms and legs around him, and just hang on.

 

"If it's what you want, Little one."

 

There is a kiss on top of your head.

 

You drift off, full belly and warm arms making it hard to stay awake.

 

You wake up a bit later, to cramps in your belly, and really needing to go potty.

 

Mark reads your mind, and commences with the sweet talk.

 

"There’s my Starshine. You're okay."

 

One of his hands slides across your tummy, and you whimper softly.

 

"I know you need to go, it's okay. I'll change you right after, getcha clean and dry.

 

C'mon, little one. Daddy knows what's best, and you need to let go for me."

 

You press your face into his chest, feeling your bladder slowly relaxing as he rubs your back.

 

You whine as the warmth spreads. Tears go down your cheeks.

 

Mark quickly grabs at the side table, snatching up a pacifier case. He unzips it and pulls out a pale lavender pacifier.

 

He presses it to your lips and you accept it.

 

He swipes the tears from under your eyes with his thumbs.

 

"Shh, no more tears. You're _so_ good, Baby Mine."

 

"Let Daddy get you changed."

 

Gloves are put on, he tears the soaked diaper at the sides.

 

You lift up for him and he slides it out.

 

Mark grabs a new one, thick with padding and needing to be taped in place.

 

He cleans you with a practiced hand, and puts the softness of the new one under you.

 

Powder falls like snow, and you are taped securely in.

 

He grabs a strawberry printed onesie from your dresser.

 

"Let's put this on, okay? I love how you look in it. Wanna get all adorable for Daddy?"

 

You nod and put your arms up, you're sitting up on the changing pad already.

 

He puts it on, snaps the snaps. You're all good.

 

Mark scoops you back up and heads back to the living room.

 

You plop from the coutch to the floor and snuggle up to Mark's leg.

 

A few moments later you tug on his pants.

 

Garbled by the pacifier, you ask sweetly.

 

"Color? Pea'se, Daddy?"

 

"Of course!"

 

He has to get up to get  the plastic bin

 

Opening it he grabs crayons.

 

What do you want to color? Disney? Pokemon? Animals?

 

"Disnwy, Pea'se."

 

He gives you coloring sheets.

 

"Sweetheart, I've got to let Chica back in and get you something to drink. Be a good girl and color something nice for me."

 

A sippy of cold water was sat on the table. Chica settles between you and Mark and gets loved on by you.

 

A few hours pass, and you get sleepy again. Naps are pretty much standard when you're little.

 

Daddy scoops you up from the floor.

 

You fall asleep on top of him.

 

+

 

You wake up Big.

 

You pull the pacifier out of your mouth, which is dry from sleeping with it in.

 

Mark's voice rumbles underneath you.

 

"Welcome back"

 

You go to get off of him.

 

"Not yet. We need to talk about yesterday- and I need you close to me for it."

 

"I- I. I am sorry, You start, hestitant.

 

I- Didn't mean to forget you or the rules. I. Got. Lost. In my head!

 

It. It felt right. That's all I can say. It's what I felt."

 

The rice wasn't the worse of it, not by a long shot. What your mother and stepdad had done was still evident. It shaped how you thought. How you acted, Little and Big.

 

You and Mark were working on fixing it . Reshaping, rebuilding, making something new and beautiful out of what you shared.

 

 

"I know. Your head is not the nicest place…" Mark replies.

 

 

"The rule needs to change so this can't happen again."

 

"Maybe corner time in the nursery?"

 

That made you flinch, the nursery was meant to be a safe place.

 

"I won't punish you there, if it comes to that. But you need someplace safe."

 

You nodded. Things were never set in stone. If this didn't work, the two of you would figure out something else.

 

"Okay. Let's take Chica for a walk, and then, dinner?"

 

"Good idea," you replied, getting off him and going to change into normal clothes.


End file.
